


Soft Steps, Cold Streets

by coldcreation



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, Animalistic, Animals, Biting, Caretaking, Cat/Human Hybrids, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Fluff, Healing, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, Kissing, Lazy Worldbuilding, Like one sentence of, Lol just have the fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Original Character(s), Prompt Fill, Scent Marking, Scenting, Social Justice, we all need it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldcreation/pseuds/coldcreation
Summary: Original work, inspired by short prompts.One-Shot, Hybrid AU.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 14
Kudos: 93





	Soft Steps, Cold Streets

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this little moment of minimal plot and many clichés. Don’t look at the world-building too closely, it might collapse loll!
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely people who have left me prompts in my tumblr inboxes! Feel free to send me more if you have any. 
> 
> I hope you like this and these new laddies who came alive for the story. Take care<3
> 
> -
> 
> This is original work. Please respect that, and do not touch the characters or the story in any way/post elsewhere. Thank you.

“Hey, see you on Monday,” Emmett called over his shoulder, one foot awkwardly holding the heavy back door of the kitchen open. It was noisy and too hot inside, the cold evening air rushing in was a welcome relief on his flushed skin. 

Azi’s head shot up from where the man had been plating the next order. His white smile was wide as always when he spotted Emmett by the door. The heat of the room was visible on his deep dark skin, but he didn’t seem too bothered.

“My Emmett,” Azi crooned, familiar mischief clear in his eyes. The man had a serving spoon poised up in one hand, the other he was wiping on his apron. “My dear Emmett, leaving so soon.”

“Soon?” Emmett snorted, shaking his head when Azi just grinned wider. “You’re welcome to take my morning and double shifts next week. _Dear._ ”

“You would not have so many double shifts, if you stopped taking them,” Azi reminded him happily, his accent round and lilting around the words. Emmett watched him finish the two plates he had been working on, familiar ease to his movements as he handed them over to the new waitress, whose name Emmett hadn’t had the time to learn yet. 

“And why would I? It might be shit hours but it’s good money.” Marie sneaked an oily container of leftovers on top of the other small boxes already balanced in Emmett’s arms. She winked before disappearing back to the front of the restaurant. 

“To get a life, Emmett,” Azi said, voice raising to carry over the sizzling of the oil and the rhythmic gurgle of the dishwasher. “We are bored of your grumpy face here. You should take a rest. Smile a little. Go meet people!” 

Emmett opened his mouth to respond to the playful ribbing, only to be cut off: “Other people, dear Emmett. Not just us.”

“Why would I even need anyone else but you, Azi, my lover,” Emmett deadpanned in his usual flat tone. Azi fluttered his lashes at him. His dark eyes, the brown several shades darker than Emmett’s, were twinkling despite the sweat gathering on his temples. 

“It is true,” Azi said, momentarily pausing to take in the fresh order-notes from the new girl. He frowned down at the paper before nodding, flashing a thumbs up and a grin at the small brunette. He stuck the orders on the edge of the shelf above him, before turning to face Emmett again. “I am your only will to live, we know this. It is sad for you, but who could resist me?”

“Absolutely no one,” Emmett said, toneless as ever. A small smile was curling up the corner of his mouth. This was their usual end of the day- routine; easy back and forth when they were in for separate shifts and only one of them was working until closing. 

“That’s right! Now, get out of my kitchen! Before I tell Miss Boss that you are stealing to feed the rats again,” Azi shooed him. “Don’t think I can’t see what you are doing with all that.”

Emmett just shook his head, amused as Azi saluted him with his spoon, after using it to point at the food containers in his arms. 

The man fed the animals probably just as much as Emmett did. No one just made it as big of a deal when it was him, whereas Emmett got all the teasing and cooing for it. 

Apparently it was hilarious that a sulky bastard like him had a soft spot for the mangy runts begging in the back alley. 

“Whatever,” Emmett called over his shoulder, adjusting his hold on the day’s leftovers. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Different variations of ‘Bye, Emmett!’ arose from all over the kitchen, following him out to the dimly lit backstreet. 

The air really was refreshing, the sensation of stepping outside always shocking on his skin. The humid and hot, almost oily air of the kitchen, was soothed from his lungs after a couple of deep inhales. 

The heavy backdoor had barely closed after him, when one of the ratty little things was already screaming at Emmett, sprinting across the narrow alley like there was no tomorrow. The others were slower to pop up, folded cardboard boxes shifting and creaking as his usual guests creeped into view. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” Emmett hummed at the approaching kitten, quickly breaking into a quiet chuckle when the loud little beast sunk her claws into the leg of his jeans. “Shi- _ow,_ none of that. Off, off.”

Emmett shook his leg gently, making sure the kitten was down before squatting next to her. She was all up in his business, now growling at the older cats that were inching closer, unphased of the fact that they were twice her size.

“Chill, little girl,” Emmett hushed, pushing her away so he could start popping the lids off the leftovers. “Ah, wait- Now, here. This is for you, stay there.” The kitten was still growling as she started to gobble down the meal Emmett put aside for her. The food was already smearing all over her tortoise fur. ”I have enough for everyone.” 

There were seven cats tonight, none of them new. Some usuals were missing but Emmett wasn’t too worried; sometimes the cats found food elsewhere, or they were busy doing other important cat things. 

He spread the food across the containers and lids, leaving space between each of them to avoid any scuffles. Bo the dog was patiently waiting by the mouth of the alley for his turn, having quickly learned that the cats would beat his ass if he came too close. 

Emmett always made sure to have something for him, too.

“What’s up, Bo?” Emmett asked, risking a gentle scritching under the mutt’s chin. The dog allowed some short few moments of it, before nervously pressing against the wall, tail between his trembling legs. “Brave today, huh? You’re getting so cuddly these days, ‘s good.”

Emmett was slow with his moves when he placed the second to last container by the nervous dog. Bo’s tail was wagging a little bit, shy where it was tucked against his belly. It was promising. 

Emmett hoped he could make a post about him soon, start looking for a proper home for him. They weren’t quite there yet, but baby steps. 

It was better to be safe than sorry; if the animals were too skittish to settle into a home, they’d be more likely to end up back in the streets. Or worse. It was no use calling a rescue either, they tended to just get rid of shaky mutts like Bo rather than actually rehabilitate them.

It was bullshit, but that’s how it was.

If Emmett’s landlord had allowed dogs, he would’ve taken Bo in ages ago. Unfortunately, it was hybrids and small pets only. And small pets meant hamsters and fish, and other tiny animals like that. 

Emmett had checked, too many times now, having hoped the letting agency would give him a different response if he kept trying… But no, the cats were off limits too. Stuck in the shitty back alley because someone had decided that they weren’t important enough to care for.

Emmett sighed, his knees cracking as he stood back up. The whites of Bo’s eyes flashed as he paused his eating, tensely watching Emmett move past him.

“Don’t you worry about me, B-Boy,” Emmett muttered quietly, stepping towards the opposite wall to give the dog some more space. Ignoring him completely seemed to work, as usual. The dog was back to scarfing his meal when Emmett headed to the mouth of the alley. 

It was only just past seven and the streets were already dark. The lights glowed against the walls of the buildings, the remains of the day’s rain reflecting the light from the ground. The sun had barely been out for weeks, but even if it had, Emmett wouldn’t know about it. 

He didn’t really mind, he enjoyed the work. It wasn’t like he had much else to do most of the time.

The sticky feeling of spending long hours in the humid kitchen made Emmett crave for an even longer shower. His hair was damp on his temples and the back of his neck, causing him to feel the chill now that he was outside.

With a tired sigh, Emmett stepped into the bigger street.

Out of habit at this point, he checked the wide stone seat running along the side of the building. It was deserted, as usual, and the sealed container he had left out there during his break was empty. Also as usual.

Emmett was too lazy to take the empty one back inside tonight, so he just closed the lid and pushed it against the wall. He left the last full container right there, lid on tight to deter away anyone without opposable thumbs. 

It was quiet, the hum of the streets just a mellow rumble in the background. Someone was singing karaoke at the bar a few buildings over, the tune static and rough as it carried in the air. 

Emmett hummed with the melody, distractedly looking down both ways of the street, searching. 

He usually did a check like this, just in case. It wasn’t surprising when he never saw anything but partygoers and late night joggers. 

A meow echoed in between the buildings, carrying from the alley behind him. Just the normal city rhythm for this time of the night.

With a sigh, Emmett pushed away from the wall. 

He was pretty sure he was being watched, but it was impossible to tell. There was no use lingering if his shadow didn’t want to show, and Emmett didn’t feel right blocking the food he had brought with him. 

Emmett looked around the road for cars, hum rough on his lips as he followed the lilt of the music. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and crossed to the other side. 

The hybrid had showed up a couple of months ago. 

Or that’s when Emmett had first noticed him. Marie didn’t even believe it at first, but when even Azi started to leave ziplocks full of dried fruit and nuts on the outer window sills, she got curious, too. When the food kept disappearing, she started to make sure they had an extra container of leftovers on top of their usual strays.

It was just quick glimpses, accidental sightings when one of them barged through the back door without a warning. So far, Emmett seemed to be the only one who got even a resemblance of acknowledgment. Even that was next to nothing, but each week it had been a little more. 

The girls in the kitchen cooed about it all the time, always asking if Emmett had finally been able to gain the “poor sweet baby’s” trust. The girls thought the cat had a crush on him. Emmett didn’t really know what to think. 

Whatever the reason, he was lurking around most evenings. Even if Emmett could never see him clearly. 

Cats were very good at being sneaky when they really wanted to be, and this one clearly didn’t want to be out in the open.

Hybrids had their rights now, somewhat. Not enough and not soon enough, but it was progress and it was still ongoing. 

They were allowed into education now, and in some parts of the workforce. There were organisations just to campaign for their wellbeing and fair treatment. Some had even been able to find positions of power, which was huge, no matter how minimal those appointments may have been. Of course, that usually meant they had ‘caretakers’ in high places.

Which was fair enough. You take what you can get.

Despite all the wins in the past years, the hybrids still firmly, and strictly, remained under someone’s care. Was it a private caretaker, or the government. Emmett had, once again, voted for the removal of the whole guardianship clause the last time it had been in the votes. It seemed ridiculous that their right to independence was up in the air in this day and age, but the hybrids didn’t even have the right to vote themselves. That would probably come much, much later.

It hadn’t been a tight vote. 

Not even close. 

A lot of those who had even bothered to fill in that specific section of the ballot, wanted to keep their upper hand with these “unnatural, god forbidden creatures”. Some said they voted against it for their own good and protection. Emmett struggled to find anything nice to say to neither one of those groups, not a fan of either rhetoric. Demonised or infantilised, almost always to a radical degree. 

Just for existing. 

Maybe next time people would vote with more humanity.

Emmett was already halfway to his flat when he noticed that he was being trailed.

He would’ve missed it, but the fact that he didn’t told Emmett that the stalker wanted to be spotted. He kept walking.

Emmett crossed another road, void of traffic and the pedestrian lights green. The cat slipping in between the parked cars was not dressed for the chilly wind of the evening. 

It wasn’t raining anymore, but even Emmett’s long sleeved jumper was barely keeping the cold at bay. The temperature really wasn’t helping with his weary state. 

A couple more blocks later, Emmett saw the shadow dropping down the roof of a garden shed, quiet in the corner of someone’s private yard. Two lamplike spheres glowed in the dark for a moment, flickering as street lights reflected from them. 

There was no sound, but Emmett felt those eyes on him as he kept on walking.

Hybrids were still a rare sight outside a home, almost never alone. They were prideful beings, despite the way the human society was hellbent on owning them, in one way or another. 

The ones you’d usually encounter were often spoiled rotten and pampered. Emmett couldn’t blame anyone on that, and it was still less than what they deserved after dealing with the human scum experimenting on them for generations. 

It wasn’t completely unheard of to find a hybrid in a rough spot though, living on their own without a home. However, it wasn’t something Emmett had seen around here before. Usually it was the bigger cities where it happened, more people meaning more chaos. 

Abusive arseholes or just clueless people who were too uneducated before taking a hybrid on. It required work. Understanding and research. _Listening_ skills, without a superiority complex. Hybrids deserved the same rights as anyone else, which meant they also deserved the right kind of environment for their nature. It wasn’t the same as having a cat or a dog, even if the hybrid’s animal side aligned with those. It wasn’t the same at all, even less so with the more rare species-variations that existed out there. 

It sure wasn’t the same as having a regular flatmate, either. They had different needs, different requirements for their health and happiness, than ‘full’ humans.

Way too many people didn’t seem to understand it, and wasn’t that always just a recipe for disaster... 

It was pretty obvious that this specific guy was a stray. 

He probably hadn’t grown up in the streets though, the dirty clothes and worn shoes he had on spoke of previous money. The collar Emmett had seen on his neck was clearly well made, although it was clasped and tightened a hole or two too far. Emmett had been concerned about it ever since spotting it some weeks ago. It had been just a quick look, but enough to reveal the uncomfortable state of it. It needed to come off, that much was obvious. 

But unless the cat allowed someone close enough, there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

He had clearly had a home once, but how long ago that had been wasn’t as easy to tell. Maybe he was a runaway?

That still didn’t explain why he was stalking Emmett. Tonight, or any of the previous nights. Weeks.

He didn’t seem feral. Or murderous. But then again, he was a cat, and cats could be quite gleefully homicidal when the mood struck them.

If he was planning on pickpocketing, he wasn’t very good at it and he really had picked the wrong target. 

First of all, Emmett was very aware of the cat’s presence, so he had already blown his surprise element. It was also obvious that the only reason Emmett knew he was there, was because the cat had wanted him to know. 

Second, the cat was easily a head shorter than Emmett, even with the dark triangular ears pointing up from the messy mop of brown hair. He was unlikely to hold up on a scuffle.

He was… 

Well, he wasn’t really that _short,_ now that Emmett was able to see him for longer than a second. Emmett was just tall. But the cat was very… stubby. Just… Even being as skin and bones as he seemed to be, everything about him was just so _stubby._

Emmett almost cooed at the first full sight of him, just before the cat was back behind the fence he was using as a cover for his stalking. Emmett didn’t _coo_ at people, ever, but even someone like him had to admit that this ratty little guy was cute. 

Emmett saw the small hands of his, curled over the stone fence, just before they disappeared from sight. Short stubby fingers, all round edges, and tiny palms. His tail had been the same way, stout and stumpy where it had followed the cat behind the corners of the buildings. The dark fur there was silky looking, clearly well groomed and taken care of. 

It was known that cats took pride in their fur, on their appearance in general. And clearly this one had worked very hard to keep himself clean. Well, the parts he could reach and manage. He had done the best he could, even if that still left him covered in dust and vile dirt. 

Emmett paid him no mind, just kept walking down the quiet streets towards his flat. He couldn’t hear a thing, but every time he turned a corner, he saw a quick flash of the cat. Closer each time. 

Nearing his block, Emmett slowed down a little. There were no other people in sight, the sound of traffic just a distant hum carrying from the bigger roads. 

Subtly, Emmet turned his head, glancing over his shoulder.

The cat was just a short distance away now. A bit higher up than Emmett had expected, but was it really that surprising for a cat to scale a tall fence?

He was crouching down, easily balancing on the balls of his feet, knees tucked close to his chin. The streetlights were reflecting from his eyes in the dark, the glow of them rather eerie whenever the light hit just so. 

Those eyes were clear however, the empty feral haze not there. But even from this distance, and with a quick glance, Emmett could tell that his vertical pupils were blown wide. Dark. 

Running on instinct, then. 

Hunger, most likely.

Fucking hell… Did tonight really have to be the night for this? After the cruelling double shift he’d just had? Emmett just wanted to get home, crack a beer, and laze on the couch with his telly on and his brain off. 

Biting back a tired groan, Emmett sighed. He knew damn well he wouldn’t be able to just head home, not now. Not without his conscience absolutely destroying him. 

He slowed to a stop and turned around.

“Can I help you?” he called, voice low and even, the same tone he used with the other skittish strays.

The cat was looking the other way now, tail sticking upright along his back, way too tensely for it to be casual or natural. Emmett had to tilt his head back a little, studying the scruffy feline perched on the tall fence.

Emmett was _very_ obviously being ignored. So much so that it revealed how he was anything but. 

The cat’s shoulders were still and tense, back facing Emmett to show how incredibly little attention Emmett was deserving. His ears were turned back though, pointing towards Emmett like two high-tech antennas. They gave the cat’s nonchalance away. Tattle tailing on him, without any conscious effort made on his part, no doubt. 

“What’s your name then?” Emmett asked when there was no answer and no movement. 

He figured it didn’t hurt to ask. He had heard that it wasn't always easy to communicate with hybrids when they were running on instincts. Usually they would still spit out a word or two if needed. 

It wasn’t like they didn’t understand what was going on when they were in a hunting or play-preying state. Even when on the defence, or operating out of fear, they still registered everything just fine. Although, that didn’t mean they’d react like humans would.

Emmett hadn’t really met too many hybrids before, none of his family or his small circle of friends having ever had one living with them. And the ones he had met? They had most definitely not been in survival mode.

He got no response.

The dark tip of the cat’s tail twitched, tapping against the back of his neck.

“Alright, then” Emmett hummed, turning back around. “Have a nice evening, man. Don’t run into the road, yeah?”

Emmett didn’t expect a response to his casual goodbye, but before he could finish taking his first step, a clicking, chattering sound stopped him. 

The cat jumped down from the fence, no sound to be heard when his shoes hit the street. Emmett lifted his brows, watching with tired curiosity as the cat straightened up. Quiet. So _stumpy._ Even the worn shoes on his feet were a stupidly small size, and this was no kid. 

He was not a teen either, most likely just a little younger than Emmett. Early twenties, maybe? 

He was sniffing the air, dark feline ears swiveling to keep track of their surroundings. It was hard to tell if the fur on his ears was black or just dark brown. He was covered in dirt, pale skin smudged wherever it was peeking out of his flimsy jacket and the rips on his trousers. His neat tail was smooth black though, so it was likely that his ears matched, under the filth.

The dust, and who knows what else, on his face had clearly been moved around in efforts of grooming. It hadn’t worked as well as on his orderly tail.

A quick glance down to his hands showed Emmett that his guess was most likely right. The dirt on the backs of his palms had less build up - licked away, no doubt - and what was left matched the circular smudges all over the cat’s face and neck. 

_Poor thing,_ Emmett thought with a sad grimace, scanning the cat’s appearance. He spotted the too tight collar again. It had clearly irritated his throat, the skin rubbed raw under the material. 

Fucking hell. Either he had grown too much to fit into it without no one to help him remove it, or someone had been purposefully cruel. Emmett wasn’t sure which was worse. 

He didn’t want to think about it too much, knowing he’d just get pissed at humanity. What he really needed to be doing now was broadcasting calm, so instead of fretting, Emmett settled on to watch what the cat was planning.

It took him a while, but when Emmett didn’t move, the stray sneaked closer. 

It was amusing, the way he was clearly pretending not to be interested. Peering Emmett over one bony shoulder, and then huffing quietly, almost scoffing, when he got caught looking. Emmett just lifted his brows at the cat, not in a hurry as the scrawny thing circled closer; doing the avoidant feline dance he needed to do to feel safe. 

Finally, after a quiet while, the cat creeped close, nose twitching as he investigated a scent on the sleeve of Emmett’s jumper. It went on for a stretching moment, his tail swishing from side to side and his breath tickling on Emmett’s skin. 

It was hard to tell what the cat was thinking, or what was the best next step to take. 

In the end, Emmett decided to just hum at him softly. The same rough way he sometimes gentled the other strays in the alley behind the kitchen. The sound broke the tense standstill, only startling the cat a little, momentarily causing him to tense up.

When nothing else happened, the cat went back to the clearly fascinating shoulder of Emmett’s jumper, crowding close.

“Mhm, do you have a name, kitty?” Emmett asked, again, slowly transitioning from the humming tone to words.

This time, the cat responded with something Emmett could translate.

“Yes,” he said, voice scratchy and shaped like it was stretched around a cat-like yowl, rather than a simple human word. He was intensely staring at Emmett’s shoulder, his upper back, his chest... Nose, pinkened from the cold, kept going, his chapped lips ajar to scent something through his mouth. White pointed canines peeked out under the cupid bowed upper lip. 

A pause. Another chattering chuffing sound. 

And the cat thumped his whole face against Emmett’s upper arm. 

Emmett blinked, watching the dirt transfer all over the fabric of his jumper as the cat… 

Rubbed his face against him? 

“Right,” Emmett said. Right… Because… He wasn’t sure how to react to this situation? Honestly, he was way too tired to deal with this after the full week of double shifts in the kitchen. What was he supposed to do with this? Was a quiet night watching rugby and gaming reviews really too much to ask after a long day? Oh, to be one one of those people who didn’t give a shit... Fucking hell. “And what might that name be?”

“Wren,” the cat said, followed by yet another chattering sound. 

At first Emmett wasn’t sure if what he had just heard was a name. It could’ve just as well been a roughly rolling mewl. 

“Wren?” Emmett repeated, carefully eyeing the cat who was now huffing against his shoulder, just to then rub his mouth and cheek all over it. Apparently Emmett wasn’t going to be procrastinating laundry day this week. 

“Wren,” the cat, _Wren,_ said, and then pressed his little canines against Emmett’s shoulder. _Biting._ Luckily with no real pressure. 

His tail was tapping, ears folding back for a moment, and then he pulled away again, nosing against the now damp spot on Emmett’s shirt.

How nice. 

Emmett stood still for a while, resigned into watching his jumper getting destroyed. The cat seemed less twitchy now, yet his eyes stayed blown and wild looking. 

He kept pressing closer and closer, but when Emmett finally lifted a hand to offer him an easy petting, he jolted back and hissed. 

A husky sound, ears folding back against his skull. When he skittered a few steps away, he revealed the spiked up state of the base of his tail. 

_A typical cat,_ Emmett thought with a quietly amused huff. Everything had to always be done their way; a one way street.

“Okay, okay,” Emmett said easily, showing both of his palms in surrender. “Not touching you. Got it.”

The way his tail was sticking up again, tense and slightly puffed up at the base, made Emmett think that maybe it was a cute quirk, special to this cat. Usually cat hybrids held their tails closer to the ground, swaying smoothly to balance them. They didn’t naturally press against their backs like this, not even when startled, and not without real conscious effort. 

Except this cat apparently did. No wonder someone had seen the resemblance to the little songbirds, tails held upright and stout as they warbled out their complex melodies. 

“So. Wren,” Emmett said, watching the cat watch him. “Is there a reason why you’re following me?”

The words caused a wrinkling nose, a chattering sound, and two soft looking ears twitching in the mess of gently coiling dark hair. That hair was most likely deep brown, once clean. Definitely darker than Emmett’s own sandy brown locks.

“Food,” Wren said. The very end of his tail curled over his bony shoulder, twitching against the side of his neck. 

Emmet lifted his brows again. He got no clarification.

The cat’s eyes were blown black, only a sliver of yellowish green around the edges of his vertical pupils.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything,” Emmett said, looking down at his body to showcase the foodless state of him. He had left the last container exactly where he always left it. The poor cat had probably seen him by the alley again, and then followed his hungry nose after him. Emmett knew he must’ve reeked of the insane amounts of restaurant food he had prepared in the past twelve hours. 

Wren made the same chattering noise from before.

“No.” He pointed a stubby finger at Emmett, red from cold and smudged with dirt, “Food.”

“Man, I promise. I don’t have anything on me now,” Emmett sighed, feeling really bad for it. He wished he had something to give for the feline, he truly did. Maybe he should go back to the restaurant with him, Azi would whip something up in no time. 

Before he was able to think about it further, Wren was hissing at him. It was a long one, too. The cat’s lips pouted out when he wrapped up the offended sound.

“Food,” Wren insisted, sharp pupils dancing as they stayed zeroed on Emmett. “Make food. Now.”

Emmett bit down a surprised laugh. “ _Now?_ Kitty, how do you think I -”

“Home,” Wren snapped, voice scratchy and insistent. Demanding. “Take home. Food.”

Oh god. 

Of course.

Fucking cats…

“Did you just invite yourself to my home?” Emmett asked, slightly taken aback by the boldness of it, but mostly amused. 

The cat just waited petulantly, jaw jutting out, one pointed canine caught on his bottom lip and denting the flush skin.

The staring contest lasted for a quiet, stretched while. The cat’s eyes were wide, upturned and almost too big for his face. They glowed lamplike for a moment, when passing headlights of a car washed over them from the far end of the street. 

The cat didn’t even blink.

“Fine.” Emmett grunted, annoyed.

As if he had ever known how to say no to scruffy runts and soft ears.

  
  
  
  
  


Wren demolished absolutely everything Emmett had in his fridge and cupboards. The leftover veggie fried rice was gone before it had the chance to visit the microwave. Instant noodles followed just as quickly, barely softened enough not to crunch. 

Emmett’s kitchen wasn’t very well stocked, embarrassingly enough for someone who worked as a full time chef. But in his defence, Emmett usually ate most of his daily meals at the restaurant. 

He did have a big bag of sliced bread and even some pickled gherkins, which, surprisingly, Wren seemed to really enjoy. Emmett easily surrendered the whole glass jar to the cat. Mostly because he wasn’t going to touch any of that, not after the cat stuck his dirty fingers inside the jar to fish the sliced gherkins out.

It really wasn’t the most hygienic thing to do, allowing Wren to stuff his face with unwashed hands. Well, unwashed _everything._

Emmett had tried though, he had highly recommended washing up before attacking the random selection of food items on offer.

He had been viciously growled at for said suggestion. So... Yeah. 

That had been that. 

Wren tore off the crusts of the sliced bread like a prissy spoiled brat, and Emmett just watched him do it from across the table. The cat turned it around later though; starting to chew on the discarded pieces, one by one, after everything else was gone from the table. He nibbled on them like they were something utterly disgusting, face scrunching up as he forced the bread down. 

Hm, a picky eater for sure. But a picky eater who had learned that there was no such a thing as picky eating, not when you were starving and unsure when the next meal would come.

Emmett got up and put more bread in the toaster for him, just in case. 

“So,” Emmett said slowly, leaning back against the counter. “Wren, right?”

“Mhm,” Wren responded, eyes scouring the table for anything else to grab. Clearly the crusts of the bread were to be avoided as long as possible. Instead, he popped a handful of baby tomatoes in his mouth. At least some fresh wholefoods were going into that bottomless pit. 

The couple of tiny tomatoes didn’t satisfy him, unsurprisingly, but it seemed like he had now had enough to somewhat fill his belly. His eyes were starting to look a little less blown. 

“Emmett,” Wren said then, abandoning the tomatoes and squinting towards Emmett instead. He pointed at the toaster next to him. “For me?”

“Yes. For you,” Emmett confirmed, a slight amused tilt to his lips. The cat looked pleased at that, eagerly settling to wait for more food. However, his posture quickly turned into avoidant dismissal when Emmett asked knowingly: “How’d you know my name?”

“I didn’t,” Wren denied snappishly, immediately, and looked away. Some colour started to build on his face, ears pressing down slightly. 

Cute.

“Wow, that was a really nice guess then,” Emmett said dryly. He crossed his ankles, arms already resting across his chest. The petulant scowl was obvious on Wren’s face, even with him facing away. “Really, though.”

The cat prickled at his tone, tail clanking against the wood of the chair as it swished in annoyance.

“Not my fault you stupid friends are always so loud,” Wren said. Cranky. So stubby and cranky, and flushing pretty pink. “You should really be concerned about identity theft, you know? Anyone can come to that backstreet. That’s personal information being shared around. It’s not safe.”

Emmett held back a snort.

Talking some shit now, huh. The food in his belly was clearly working miracles to soothe his survival driven instincts. 

“How long have you been stalking the restaurant?” Emmett asked instead of entertaining the nonsense. Wren just grabbed a torn edge-piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth, avoiding again. His triangular ears were turned back towards Emmett. “You should’ve just, I don’t know, knocked on the door or something.”

Wren jolted harshly when the toaster suddenly jumped, ears flattening and accusing eyes swiveling to glare at Emmett. His mouth kept going throughout it all, cheeks puffed with bread as he was clearly trying to gorge himself as quickly as possible.

“Slow down, man,” Emmett said, shaking his head. He dropped the hot toast on a plate, hissing a little as it burned his fingers. After a generous coating of margarine, he turned back around and pushed the plate in front of Wren. “It’s not going anywhere. I can order more food if you’re still hungry. I know this is not really… _real_ food, but you can have as much as you want.”

“It’s real food,” Wren said around the newly crustless hot toast that was already halfway gone in his mouth. “‘s good.”

“Yeah, well. Sure, it’s food, you’re right,” Emmett nodded, watching with something akin to awe as the toast disappeared. The torn pieces of crust followed. Hopefully it wasn’t still burning hot. “But I mean food that’s actually good for you. Nutrients and stuff. This is all processed shit.”

Wren shrugged dismissively. He licked his lips, first the bottom one and then the top, canines flashing as he did. After hastily rubbing his hands together to get rid of any crumbs, Wren’s fingers lifted to distractedly trace his collar. Emmett was just glad he didn’t try to lick them clean.

“Can I have more bread?” Wren piped up, suddenly blinking at Emmett with a ridiculously Puss in Boots-like gaze. 

God.

Emmett frowned dumbly at the sight. Then cleared his throat.

“How about you wash up first?” he suggested. “You might get sick if you eat too much at once.”

“But -” Wren started, whine laced in his voice.

“Would you like me to see if we can get that thing off you?” Emmet asked before the cat could get going with that tone. He nodded at the collar Wren was still tugging on.

“I- This?” Wren’s stuttering response cut off short and he blinked down at himself, as if trying to see the collar on his neck. “The collar?”

“Yeah?” Emmett said. “I mean. It looks pretty uncomfortable? Probably should disinfect under it, too, if it’s rubbed something open.”

“I- Well, it’s… Maybe?” The cat looked a bit more twitchy now. “It’s not- It has a lock?”

“Okay,” Emmett said, making sure his voice came easy and stable. The base of Wren’s tail was prickling up, the rest of it sneaking to press against his back again. “Can I take a look? If... If it’s okay for me to touch it?”

Wren’s upper lip lifted at the question, canines poking into view. His jaw went through a quick, trembling up and down movement, a clicking sound pushing out from the back of his mouth. His ears swiveled back, pressing down a little.

Emmett stayed by the counter, relaxed as he leaned into it, waiting for the cat to calm.

“You can… You can touch,” Wren finally said, eyes still looking restless. “But just the collar.” 

“Just the collar,” Emmett promised.

The back of the too-tight mark of ownership was hidden under Wren’s loosely coiling hair. The dark locks were clumped but fluffy, overgrown and in a desperate need of a proper wash. The collar sat high up on his slim throat, and just like Emmett had figured weeks ago, it was obviously well made. Expensive.

The material was something smooth and it was high quality. Water resistant, no doubt. It was slim, slightly glimmering, and such a dark blue it appeared almost black under all the dirt. The stitching was immaculate all the way around it. 

“Wanna move your hair up for me?” Emmett asked, pushing away from the counter to step a little closer. He lifted his concentrated gaze from where he had been studying the collar, only to find a pair of slitted pupils zeroed on him. 

Emmett paused, tilting his head. 

It was hard to tell if the cat was trying to be intimidating, or if he was intimidated. Either way, and unfortunately for him, he looked about as fierce as a new born baby kitten.

“Hey. Only if you’re okay with it, man,” Emmett said, tone a bit softer now. This was a lot of trust to ask, he knew that. Especially when they were dealing with a bunch of defencive feline instincts on top of everything. “We can figure out something else too, it’s cool. I just thought it’d be more comfortable for you without it.” 

The base of Wren’s tail stayed puffed up, the tip twitching where it was hooking over one of his shoulders. Emmett met the intense stare of the golden tinted green eyes, calmly waiting it through.

Wren’s hands were slow to move, unsure and understandably suspicious as he raked his fingers into his hair. 

What was revealed at the nape of his neck didn’t look great.

Emmett clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a frown pulling at his brows. “Awh, shit. That’s… That looks sore.”

Wren’s shoulders hunched a little, but he didn’t move away when Emmett stepped closer.

The little locking mechanism itself was rather small, inconspicuous and deceivingly delicate. It was still clear that the pieces of the matte-finish metal were sturdy and had no give. No way it’d break with brute force, not without some real pain. 

Not that that had stopped Wren from trying.

Little scratches and cuts marred the skin where the lock rested; some of the markings caused by the irritation of the too-tight material, the slim buckle, and the lock itself. The nape of Wren’s neck was rubbed raw pink, some old dried blood flaking, clinging to his hair. There wasn’t a lot of it, but what had collected over time made it look much worse.

The cuts and scratches were about the size of Wren’s fingers, some old and some fresh. 

Emmett frowned harder. 

Without the right key or equipment, it’d have been impossible for Wren to adjust the size of the collar, or remove the thing altogether. It didn’t seem like a safe option for a collar to begin with. 

For someone who had clearly had more than enough money to invest in such a nice piece, you’d think they would check if there was a choking risk. 

This clearly wasn’t meant for everyday use. It was more like a showpiece. 

Emmett’s mouth tightened.

“It’s itchy,” Wren mumbled, squirming in his chair until he had his knees up, tucked under his chin. “I’ve tried to break it off. I’ve… I tried.”

Emmett hummed, chewing on his cheek as he eyed the fancy torture device. Yeah, because that’s what it was. Or, at least, that’s what it had turned into, the moment it became too tight for Wren to wear comfortably. 

“Might have to cut it off,” Emmett mused, wondering if kitchen scissors would be enough. “Can you feel some kind of metal, or a wire, inside it?”

He would’ve checked himself, but if he was planning on taking scissors to the cat’s neck in the near future, he figured it was wise not to overdo it with the touching before that.

“Don’t think so,” Wren said quietly. He looked rather sad there, suddenly. Curled up into a ball in a stranger’s kitchen, neck scratched raw and unintentional rips on the knees of his stained, expensive cotton trousers. He was a mess, dirty and too skinny, and so quiet now. 

He held very, _very,_ still when Emmett slid the blade of the kitchen scissors in the tight fit between his irritated skin and the collar. He didn’t make a sound, not even though the added tension must’ve felt suffocating.

“Alright,” Emmett sighed to himself, concentrated frown sitting heavy on his brows. He tried to touch the cat’s bare skin as little as possible. “Let’s see.”

It took a few tries, the material stiffer and even more unforgiving than the delicate appearance had initially suggested. Wren stayed frozen in place, ears back and fingers knotted into a fist in his own hair. 

The end of his tail was nervously curling and uncurling over Emmett’s forearm, unconsciously touching him. It was hard to say if it was to caution Emmett, or for comfort for Wren.

Emmett breathed out in relief when the blades finally cut through all the way. 

It was quiet in the kitchen after that. 

Wren ran his fingers over the collar resting on his knees, eyes glazed and sad as he looked at the destroyed thing. He touched it with a lot of care, respectful. 

Emmett didn’t ask.

  
  
  
  
  


Bribing Wren with the promise of takeout, Emmett managed to get him into the bathroom for a proper wash. 

Afterwards, once the cat had been locked up in the room for a while, the shower going, Emmett started to realise that he’d probably been played a little bit. Wren was obviously enjoying his deep clean, considering how long it was taking him. Pretending to hate the idea had just landed him with more food.

Emmett couldn’t make himself feel too betrayed by it, it was amusing more than anything. 

The food came way before Wren was finished, and Emmett focused on digging out the rarely used first aid kit underneath the kitchen sink. He was organising it on the couch, takeout boxes on the coffee table, when the cat finally creeped into the living room.

Wren looked a lot better now, less of a street rat and more the demandingly regal being that he was turning out to be. He even held himself better now, back slightly taller and ears pointing up. Emmett’s borrowed joggers and hoodie were too big on him, but he looked like a normal person like this. Well, except for the sore looking ring around his pale throat. 

The rubbed raw skin looked both worse and better without all the filth. Wren was flushed pink all over from the humid heat of the shower, but the cuts and irritation marring his throat looked angry red. Emmett frowned at the sight, knowing it would sting to clean that up.

“Let’s take care of that, yeah?” he said, flicking his eyes up, finding Wren already watching him. “I don’t think it needs to be wrapped up or anything, just have to make sure it’s clean. Maybe some antibiotic cream, so it’s not so itchy when it heals.”

Wren looked hesitant, lingering by the end of the couch, keeping the backrest in between them. He didn’t look scared, though, which Emmett was thankful for. The cat hadn’t been too nervous in general, just a bit suspicious of him, and that was well within his rights. Once Wren had come out of his instincts, he seemed… as close to comfortable as a situation like this allowed. 

Emmett still wasn’t sure why Wren was here, with _him._ Why he had chosen Emmett to trail after, quietly watching for weeks. Whatever it was, apparently it had made Wren decide that Emmett wasn’t a threat. 

The cat had probably seen him feed the strays all these weeks and then figured he’d be an easy target. No matter his sulky ways and the rough, dry commentary he used with the people he interacted with, it was obvious that he was a sucker for any back alley runt in need.

Wren fit right in, and the cat knew it.

Emmett was quickly starting to feel like he was already too deep in trouble with this one. 

Wren circled closer to the couch, carefully and soundlessly inching towards Emmett. He’d probably spent a lot of time toweling off his tail in the bathroom, the black fur now fluffy and airy looking, the tip hooking over his shoulder. The brown hair on his head was still a little damp, the ends starting to twist and curl. 

“You didn’t throw the collar away, right?” Wren asked, slowly sitting down on the couch next to Emmett, while Emmett pretended to ignore him so he’d feel comfortable to settle there. 

The question caused his brows to raise, but Emmett kept his tone carefully neutral.

“It’s with your jacket in the kitchen,” he said, turning a bottle of ointment around to check the best before. His eyes lingered on the little symbol that declared the product safe for hybrids. “Might have to get them dry cleaned. The rest of your clothes, too.” Emmett wasn’t sure if there was anything to do to save his ripped cotton trousers, the obviously once neat and expensive pair… kind of ruined with the tears. “My laundry machine would probably just mess up nice fabrics like that.”

“It’s okay,” Wren said quietly. He was teetering on the edge of the couch seat, eyes and tail twitchy as he watched Emmett sort through the cotton rounds and disinfectants. 

It would be easier if Emmett took care of the whole clean up process, but just because Wren wasn’t hissing at him anymore, it didn’t mean he wanted to be touched. Emmett looked up at him, a bit awkwardly stuck holding a bottle of soothing aloe vera gel and antiseptic swipes. 

“How do you… How do you want to do this?” he asked, frowning a little at his own fumbling. Emmett wasn’t very good at being in fragile situations like this, tact and careful interactions not always his forte. He knew how to be caring and how to take care of others, but that was usually shown through actions. 

Emotionally he was sometimes a bit… clumsy. 

Yeah. Let’s go with that.

Wren was watching him, eyes dropping to the items in his hands, and then back up again. 

“You can do it.” The permission was curt and dismissive, as if he was the one doing Emmett a favour.

Emmett figured it was better not to allow himself to feel too confused. 

He made quick work of it, cleaning up everything the best he could, with as little touching as he could manage. Emmett made sure there was no dirt left, checking each bruise and patch of raw skin. The cat allowed him to tie the hair at the back of his neck into a tiny ponytail, the elastic keeping the overgrown strands from irritating the skin. 

After carefully touching the tuft of hair there, Wren immediately wanted to tie another elastic around his fringe. The sprout on the top of his head had no right looking as cute as it did.

Wren’s eyes looked even bigger like this, not shadowed by the dark strands that had been hanging and coiling over his eyes before. Without all the dust and dirt his skin looked much paler too, the contrast in colour enhancing the size of his slitted pupils whenever they blew wide. 

The cat sat still through the whole process, allowing Emmett to treat every cut and tear. He even showed a small scratch on the base of his left feline ear, mostly hidden by his hair. It seemed like Wren was a bit worried about that one, the wound probably more painful due to being in such a sensitive place. 

“I think it’s just a scratch,” Emmett hummed, carefully pressing down some of the coiling strands of Wren’s hair. He smelled faintly of Emmett’s shampoo now, triangular ear flicking when Emmett’s fingers brushed over it. It was almost unreal how soft it was to touch. “Doesn’t look too bad. It’s already healing.”

When Emmett moved to sit back, starting to pull his hand away, he noticed that Wren’s eyes were closed. They slowly blinked open, drowsy looking, when Emmett went quiet. 

The golden tinted green of his eyes was even more striking up close. 

His ear flicked again, tickling over Emmett’s palm.

“You know how to pet nicely,” Wren said, scratchy voice lower now, something very sleepy clinging to his letters. Emmett didn’t know if the words were meant as a compliment, a statement, or an accusation.

Perhaps it was all three.

“Right,” Emmett replied. He ended up just watching the cat, not sure what else to do. He didn’t try to move again, not wanting to startle the lulling moment.

Wren seemed calm, somewhere along the way having deemed the situation safe enough to relax into the couch. He looked softer like this, burrowed into clean clothes, shower-fresh and sleepy. He was just as skin and bones as he had seemed outside the flat, but at least his stubby little fingers were now flushed with warmth, rather than cold. 

Just as stubby, Wren’s tail was curled protectively around his belly. His thighs were pressed to his chest and they hid most of that black fur. He was watching Emmett back. Again. _Still._

Emmett felt a little part of his trademarked grumpiness die the second Wren nudged his temple against his palm.

Honestly, there would be nothing left of him, if this cat kept tearing at his hard earned image like this.

It was brutal. 

Wren didn’t seem to care. He closed his eyes again, quietly sighing when Emmett started to trace the soft fur of his ear. 

Even his hair was soft, silky against the back of Emmett’s palm as he rubbed so, so, carefully over the root of that sensitive ear. But… He wasn’t going to lie; Emmett was genuinely surprised the cat allowed any of this. 

But then again, was it ever possible to know what to expect from cats? And it wasn’t like Wren hadn’t been keeping an eye on him for weeks now, so… Whatever was going on in his head, was a complete mystery. 

Emmett didn’t even get the chance to clear up the first aid kit, before Wren was already nodding off against the back of the couch. Or, rather, Emmett had forgotten about the kit altogether, instead focusing on raking his fingers through Wren’s hair.

After a long while, Emmett’s leg started to fall asleep where it was folded under him. Cotton swipes had spilled out onto the seat, the little plastic bag they were from crinkling whenever the tip of Wren’s tail swept over it.

Wren’s lashes fluttered, canines glinting from the gap of his lips. His face pinched up every now and then, whenever Emmett hit a spot which he could only assume was good. It was already getting way too late, and Emmett knew all too well how fucked you were when a cat decided to park themselves on you. 

Yeah. 

This evening hadn’t really gone according to plan, in any shape or form. No beer, no rugby, no early turning in. 

His kitchen was gnawed empty, coffee table littered with cooling takeout, and his couch was taken over by a stray cat.

Still… Emmett could admit - even if just privately to himself - that he didn’t really mind the part where he had company.

It was- 

Kind of nice? 

The flat felt a little less empty like this. 

Predictably, said company wasn’t too pleased when Emmett brushed his fingers into the little ponytail sprouting from the top of Wren’s head. Emmett tugged on it, gently, after wrapping a finger around the coiled strands. 

Wren blinked his eyes open, scowling even before his bleary gaze had fully focused.

“You should go to bed if you’re falling asleep. My room is next to the bathroom,” Emmett said softly, carefully untangling his touch from Wren’s hair, finally pulling back. 

The cat looked offended by such a decision, glaring at Emmett’s hand for a moment.

“I’m not taking your bed,” Wren said, _scoffed._ Sleep was causing his voice to come out even scratchier than it had been before. “’m hungry.”

“Well,” Emmett said, collecting the insides of the first aid kit back into the pouch, zipping it. “Feel free to eat whatever. Try not to make yourself sick, though.” He nodded at the food on the low table, and then looked back at him. “I’m going to shower and then change the sheets. You can head in and sleep after that.”

Wren’s jaw dropped into quick chatter, a low hiss following the sound, revealing his white little canines. 

“I’m sleeping here,” Wren announced. His tail swished, once, twice. 

Emmett frowned, opening his mouth to say… something?

Whatever it had been, the words died in his mouth because Wren’s ears pressed back. He hissed again, a deep growl echoing from his chest.

Emmett lifted his palms up.

“Okay, okay,” he rushed to soothe, an airy laugh pushing past his lips. “You can have the couch, just… Can I at least bring you a proper blanket and some better pillows?”

Wren stared, watching Emmett stand up.

It was quiet while he mulled it over.

“Fine,” the cat said curtly, arms wrapping around his shins, body folded into a little ball. 

Fine.

Emmett felt a bit dazed as he walked to get the promised blankets. He detoured to the kitchen to get rid of the first aid kit and to have a glass of cold water. 

It did nothing to clear his head.

When Emmett returned with the materials for the makeshift couch bed, Wren was still in the exact same spot where he had left him. He stared again, pupils slitted and sharp despite the clear tiredness in them.

Emmett sighed, relating to the weariness.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “D’you need something else?”

Wren stared some more. Silent.

_Alright..._

With another sigh, Emmett left the takeout on the table, grabbing just one container for himself. He ate out of it, standing in the middle of the kitchen. 

He spent the whole time deep in thought, somehow not registering almost any of it. All his attention seemed to be directed towards the quiet living room, and on the fact that he really hadn’t even thought twice about letting this stranger inside his home. 

Emmett didn’t finish the food, he quietly stashed the rest of it in the fridge instead.

Even after he had showered, brushed his teeth, and spent some time trying to get comfortable in his bed, Emmett still didn’t really know where to go from there. 

What had even happened? What did it mean?

And. 

Like... What was the protocol for something like this?

In the end, he didn’t even get a real chance to talk about it the next morning, like he had planned before falling asleep.

The cat slipped out the front door after a quiet affair of leftover takeout for breakfast. Emmett watched him disappear behind the corner of the building through the kitchen window.

“Yeah. Well...” Emmett said after him, way too tired to feel this startled so early in the morning. He yawned into the crook of his elbow, frown heavy over his sleepy eyes. “Good meeting you, too, I guess.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Emmett didn’t see Wren again for over three weeks.

When he asked Azi, and the others who had been sneaking food for the strays, they said they hadn’t seen anything. 

He tried not to be too worried. He knew cats were more than capable of taking care of themselves. But still... He was used to the shadowing presence of Wren’s when he took the scraps out into the back alley. Although Emmett had barely seen nothing but quick glimpses of the cat before, now that he had properly met him, his absence was all too obvious. 

It was probably stupid to let himself get so bothered by it. It wasn’t like they were friends... 

Wren didn’t owe him anything. 

Day after day, Emmett cursed himself some more for getting so attached to a stranger, so quickly. Emmett knew better. He really did. 

He’d been able to take care of the alley’s strays for years now, he obviously wasn’t a fucking amateur with his heart.

There was a high chance that Wren had already skipped town, off to better things, hopefully. He had literally no reason, no obligation to come back, despite how long he had spent lingering near the backstreet of the restaurant before.

He was gone, but Emmett could tell that Wren knew how to take care of himself. The cat had been able to make sure that he got fed, checked, and cleaned up just fine, after all. By none other than _Emmett_ himself, for fuck’s sake. He’d be fine. 

Yeah. 

He was gone, but he’d be fine, and Emmett needed to move on now. 

Some strays never stayed. 

It was part of life for anyone living in touch with the streets.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Emmett got home after another long day at the restaurant, it was an understatement to say that he wasn’t expecting the prickly babybird of a cat loitering by his front door.

“Hey, man,” Emmett nodded casually, digging his keys out of his front pocket as if his heart wasn’t stuttering in his chest. “How’ve you been?”

He didn’t receive an answer, but when he twisted the key in the lock and the door started to open, Wren squeezed himself in through the crack.

“Nice to see you, too,” Emmett muttered to himself, watching the cat disappear into his flat. 

There was no way of knowing where Wren had been the past few weeks, but he kept showing up after that. 

Always looking like it was the most horrible thing, like someone had _forced_ him to come around and disgustingly manipulated him to accept the clean clothes and the full meals, prepared by an actual chef. And oh horror, the comfortable couch. Every night. Just for him. 

A couch that still wasn’t comfortable enough to keep Wren from sneaking out every morning.

But... Well.

Wren had quickly taken over the entirety of Emmett’s down time, the armchair in the corner of the living room declared as his fortress. 

Emmett felt completely helpless watching it happen.

Most days Wren would just be waiting at the flat. Sometimes by the door, other times popping up by the bushes leading up to the front of the building. Once he almost caused Emmett to have a heart attack, lazing on the roof, unbothered as he napped.

Every now and then Emmett found him scowling by the back alley of the restaurant, hissing at the cats and giving Bo a wide berth. 

He’d crowd right up against Emmett’s side the whole walk from work to home, getting underfoot and almost tripping them both multiple times. Wren usually complained most of the way, about everything and nothing, only quieting when Emmett carefully rubbed the back of his neck for long enough. 

That was the most touch he allowed since the first time he’d been to Emmett’s. 

At the restaurant, Wren tolerated Azi, but even that was only somewhat. They had gotten as far as exchanging some short words, after a couple of tense meetings. Emmett was pretty sure that any progress was due to the treats Azi kept sneaking him.

The rest of the staff, if they even got the chance to see the distrustful hybrid, were kept under a strict ‘you can admire from afar, but you are not permitted to touch’- regime. Interestingly enough, that regime also covered Emmett. Which he quickly learned after one of the girls had hugged him goodbye at the end of a long shift.

Wren had barely looked at him for the rest of the night, a wrinkle cutting over the bridge of his nose. A tense pout had remained on his face all the way until he had passed out in his armchair. 

The next morning Emmett had woken up to find Wren sneaking into his room for the first time ever. The cat had been scowling, clearly bothered as he rubbed his cheeks all over the pillows and the sheets in Emmett’s bed. Emmett had just let him do whatever he wanted. 

Never asking where he went when he disappeared.

It wasn’t like Emmett was in any position to comment, and... 

As long as Wren came back around, he didn’t feel too sore about it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Emmett was sat on the floor in front of the tv, absentmindedly flicking through the options of games and old dvds. 

Wren was curled up in his armchair like he had been for most of that Saturday, eyes stuck on the freshly dry cleaned collar on the coffee table.

The cleaning had revealed the true delicate beauty of it, the dark blue material glimmering prettily in the late afternoon light. 

“She died, y’know,” Wren muttered, causing Emmett to look up. 

They had been quiet for a long time, comfortable to just share the silence as they both sat with their own thoughts.

Eyes flickering from Wren to the collar, and then back, Emmett could tell that the cat was trying to seem unbothered. Emmett could also see the truth of his feelings on his soft features. 

Instead of saying something, Emmett hummed out a quiet sound.

“She was old,” Wren said, finally looking away from the collar. Emmett met his gaze. “None of her kids wanted me and the relative who stepped in wasn’t… It wasn’t a good place. They made me sleep in the earth cellar.”

Emmett blanched at that, and then shook his head, frowning. 

What the hell?

“Apparently it was supposed to be ‘temporary’, but I could tell.” Wren shrugged, rolling his eyes. His tail swished, snappy and revealing his agitation. “The wife didn’t want animals in the house. I’m not sure what special breed their dogs were since they clearly didn’t count.”

_Oh._

“Wren, that’s...” Emmett had to focus hard to unclench his jaw. “That’s really shitty. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Wren shrugged, dismissive again. Seeing that, Emmett frowned harder, and sat up straighter where he had been leaning against the tv-table.

No way. 

_No way_ was Emmett letting that one go just like that.

“You know that’s bullshit what they said, right?” he asked, intently watching the array of emotions flickering on Wren’s face. He didn’t respond. “You’re not an animal. No one should use that as an insult anyway, because even animals deserve basic decency.” Wren shrugged again, eyes low. _Fuck..._ Emmett exhaled the tension out of his lungs the best he could. “Wren. You’re not _less than._ ”

“It’s not like I’m human either,” Wren said, eye roll obvious in the word ‘human’, even though he didn’t recreate the expression visibly. 

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Emmett finished decidedly. People could fuck right off with that opressive rethoric. 

Wren shifted in his seat, folding and unfolding the hem of his borrowed shorts. His stocky tail tried to curl around his belly but he pushed it away, wincing at the involuntary self-soothing gesture. 

“Yeah, well...” Wren shrugged again, eyes still down. He paused before sighing, and then said, “Anyway. I was already basically stuck outside, there. It didn’t feel like it would make that big of a difference to just hit the streets instead.” He frowned, the corners of his mouth pulling down into a self deprecating grimace. “Obviously I had no idea, I was such a gullible idiot.” He stared at his hands. He looked small curled up on the big chair. “So. Yeah. And that’s how I’m- here. I guess.” 

Emmett could easily tell that Wren wasn’t telling the whole story. 

It was very likely that he had gotten a bit more than just snide, speciest comments hurled at him. Not to even start with anything that could’ve happened to him sleeping in the streets. No one was as skittish and jumpy as him without a good reason. But... Emmett decided not to press it too much. Maybe someday Wren would feel comfortable enough to share all of it. 

“Did those people put that collar on you?” he asked, thinking back at how painful the fancy, ill fitting thing must’ve been to carry. 

Wren shook his head, glancing up at Emmett.

“It was a gift. From, y’know...” It clearly hurt him to talk about the elderly lady who had been his legal caretaker. He must’ve really cared for her, no matter where he had ended up. “She was… Well, her memory wasn’t the best at the end. She wanted to give me something pretty, but I think she didn’t realise it was on too tight and that I couldn’t take it off myself.” Wren’s downcast eyes were shining. He kept playing with the hem of his shorts. “It got uncomfortable really quick, but... by then she had fallen really ill and they wouldn’t- Well. No one would listen. She was asking for me, I think, but I wasn’t allowed to see her anymore.”

Wren’s scratchy voice was quiet by the end of it, his whole being drooping with held back grief and upset. Emmett’s chest hurt to see him like that, the defeated wilt of his ears and the sad slump weighing on his tail and shoulders. 

He wanted to take it all away. Just… Wren didn’t deserve such pain. No one did. Not all on their own.

“Come here,” Emmett said - _offered_ \- softly. He reached out a hand and leaned back against the edge of the tv-table, dvds forgotten by his side. 

Wren peeked down at him from his spot on the armchair, eyes wet and cautious. Emmett just kept his offered palm up, looking back with calm resolve. 

He wasn’t sure if it was too soon to suggest something like this - maybe their first day had been a fluke? - but Wren eventually decided that it wasn’t. The cat sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with rough fists, and then unfolded from the chair.

He skittered across the living room floor, ears and eyes low, avoiding Emmett’s gaze. 

He didn’t pause to hesitate though. 

Wren plopped down and curled up in Emmett’s lap, head tucking under his chin and fingers twisting into the front of his shirt. He fit there just right. So lovely and warm, _perfect,_ even with the held-back tears that tore at Emmett’s heart. 

Quietly, and for a very long time, Emmett just smoothed his palm up and down the curve of his shaking back. 

Not stopping even when the edge of the tv-table started to feel uncomfortable against his spine. Not stopping even after Wren finally relaxed.

Not stopping when his hitching wet breaths turned into low purrs.

  
  
  


Emmett’s heart didn’t stop aching when, the day after, Wren still slipped out with the early morning dew.

  
  


“So, are you going to take him in?” Marie asked, elbows on the edge of the counter, watching Emmett rinse off his knives and the cutting board. “Like, fully.”

Azi smacked Emmett’s ass as he walked past, eyebrows wiggling. “As if that cat didn’t already decide on it the second he started stalking our sweet Emmett.”

Marie hummed out an agreeable sound. She paused to tuck her red hair better behind her ear, the wispy strands insistent on escaping her low bun. “That’s true. I don’t know how much say you have on this.”

Emmett shrugged, unfazed as ever. “He can do whatever he wants.”

“Ohh, mister cool and collected,” Marie teased, smile sharp and knowing. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed your good mood lately. I bet you’d be right back to your sulky bastard ways if he decided to bail on you.” 

“There’s nothing to bail unless he wants it first,” Emmett said resolutely, pointedly focusing on drying his hands on the towel hanging above the sink. Azi circled back from his own workstation and came to stand by Marie, crossing his arms.

“So you would not be at all upset?” he asked, suspicion thick in his heavy accent. “Are you lying to yourself or to him?”

Emmett frowned, tugging the ties of his apron open and pulling it over his head. 

“He likes the free food. Barely sticks around to spend the night,” Emmett said, keeping his face blank as identical obnoxious expressions appeared on the two gossips’ faces. He added flatly: “On the _couch._ ” 

“Awh, you make him sleep on the couch?” Marie whined, pouting exaggeratedly. “Emmett! You can be a grumpy old man here all you want, but tell me you at least offered him the bed?”

“I did! I- But he -” Emmett sputtered, uncharacteristically caught off guard and floundering for it. “Marie, stop that.” Marie looked way too gleeful at his reaction. “Of course I’ve offered. He just... hisses at me.”

In fact, Emmett had offered every night since the first time. He’d be more than happy to have the couch, if not every night, then at least every now and then. But no.

Wren now allowed and liked the cuddles on the couch... as long as he got to kick Emmett out of the living room at the end of the night. Which was fine. 

Whatever he needed to feel comfortable. 

Azi snorted into his own shoulder, not even trying to be discreet. Emmett ignored him. Marie’s eyes kept laughing at him, so he ignored her as well.

“Whatever,” Emmett said, turning to chuck his apron in the laundry basket by the staff-room door. “I told him he has a place if he wants it. He ignored it.” No one had to know that it had hurt more than it had any right to. “I’ll help him find somewhere good if that’s his choice.”

Azi looked at him for a quiet moment, brows low and his usually smiley mouth pulled tight.

“ _You_ want to be his choice, yes?” Azi asked then, serious and way too understanding. Emmett rubbed his forehead, sighing.

This would leave him with a damn headache for sure.

Emmett shrugged.

“You really like him a lot,” Marie observed, head tilted and a lock of copper hair falling on her cheek. She brushed it back, repinning it in place. Emmett quietly watched her go through the familiar motions. 

“Yeah,” he sighed after a while, annoyed with himself, but already well-resigned to this unforeseen turn of events. “Yeah, I really like him a lot.”

  
  
  
  


“Em?” Wren asked. 

And then, “Emmy?” when he didn’t reply fast enough.

“Em?”

“Em?”

“Em?”

“How can I help you, baby bird?” Emmett replied sweetly, not looking up from his twitter feed. 

He didn’t need to. He could feel Wren’s scowl over the nickname without seeing it.

Wren made a short trilling sound. “ _Emmett._ ”

How was he so effortlessly cute? Even when acting all bratty and demanding.

“Yes?” Emmett said, deciding to take it easy on him. He closed his phone and dropped it on the couch, not caring where it landed. Fuck, he was tired. 

At least that headache hadn’t lingered for too long after Azi and Marie’s interrogation. Small miracles.

Wren stared, tail tap tap tapping. 

“Why are you being weird?” he accused after a moment of intense eye contact. His canines peeked out against his bottom lip when he bit down to it, brows pulled together. 

“Am I?” Emmett asked, too breezy even to his own ears.

“Yes!” Wren scowled harder, tail smacking against the backrest of the armchair in annoyance. He was wearing the new jeans Emmett had recently bought for him, the fit of them designed for hybrids. The too big white t-shirt he had on was Emmett’s, the neckline hanging low, showing a generous amount of delicate collarbone. 

Emmett’s wider shoulders had stretched the thin fabric out, but surely that was no excuse for it to look so damn obscene?

Blinking to look away, Emmett shook his head. He hadn’t realised that he had been so obvious about his… predicament. 

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal anyway. It wasn’t about him. All that mattered was that Wren was off the streets and would _stay_ off the streets. 

And. Well...

It _shouldn’t_ have been about Emmett. It hadn’t meant to be.

Too fucking bad he clearly couldn’t control his emotions. 

He knew they probably should talk, but… Emmett wasn’t so good at talking about his feelings. He rather showed them in some way, was it food or affection, or whatever. But words? That shit was hard. Always unnatural and clunky for him.

He never knew what to say. Rather, he avoided saying anything at all, most of the time. 

The risk of messing up something he really cared about was… Yeah. 

Emmett really wasn’t too good with the feelings-shit.

“Have you thought about what you want to do, yet?” Emmett asked. He knew he had taken too long to say something, the lull in their back and forth glaringly obvious. That probably also revealed that he wasn’t asking this just to have a casual conversation. Which, y’know, _great._ He could only hope that Wren wouldn’t catch onto that. “You never said what kind of places you’d like to look for. And do you know if you’ll have to deal with the courthouse, and all that?”

Wren’s eyes narrowed.

He stayed silent. 

For way too damn long for Emmett to not feel nervous. Emmett didn’t _do_ nervous. 

What the fuck.

Wren kept watching him.

“Is that why you smell sad?” Wren asked, scratchy voice lower than usual when he finally spoke. His dark hair was a mess after his shower earlier in the evening, some longer strands hanging over his forehead. The loose coils were just long enough to tuck behind his human ears, the ends neater now that he’d let Emmett give them a trim a couple of weeks ago.

He had absolutely no right to be looking so cosy in Emmett’s clothes, in his _home._ Not when he was clearly accusing him of something.

Emmett’s brows lifted high up. “I… _smell?_ ”

Wren rolled his eyes.

“Everyone smells. Everyone _has_ a smell. A scent,” he pointed out, as if it was obvious. To him it probably was. “You usually smell good.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Emmett snorted. “Like the restaurant and food. I’d be surprised if a food dispenser like you didn’t like it.” 

“No. Well, yes, but -” Wren shook his head, as if clearing it. “Whatever. That's not what I meant.”

“Right,” Emmett nodded, not understanding at all, but deciding to just go along with it. “You meant that I smell. Usually good, but apparently not today.”

“You smell _sad._ ” As if that made any difference. Apparently it did. Wren’s eyes pinned Emmett in place. “It’s still a good scent. To _me._ ”

There was something very pointed in the way he said it. 

Emmett paused, unsure.

“You… like it when I’m sad?” he asked, more and more confused, and clearly missing something. 

Wren’s jaw dropped into a familiar annoyed chatter, a quick up and down movement. He often made that sound when he thought Emmett was being dumb, or when he was especially frustrated. 

“No,” Wren huffed, a faint flush gathering over his softly sloping cheekbones. His, _‘you idiot..._ ’ went unspoken, but somehow it managed to be very obvious in his tone. “ _Even_ when you’re sad, it’s still a good scent.”

“To you?” Emmett echoed him from before. The end of Wren’s tail coiled and his human ears looked warm. 

“Yes.” There was something dancing behind those slitted pupils of his. “To me.” 

Alright.

It clearly meant something. A lot.

Something a lot.

Emmett just really hoped it meant the same thing for the both of them.

“Okay,” Emmett agreed quietly, still meeting that captivating gaze of Wren’s eyes. 

The cat kept looking at him for a little while longer, as if assessing him. He licked over his cupid bowed upper lip, thoughtful, before nodding. Decisive. 

“Now, stop being sad, stupid,” Wren demanded, uncurling up from the armchair with one graceful movement. He seemed to be trying to appear nonchalant, but his tail was pinned to his back, stout and stiff. 

“Not sure it works like that,” Emmett said, amused. He watched Wren round the edges of the living room rug, his eyes and ears never leaving where Emmett was sitting on the couch. 

“Is there something else?” Wren asked.

“Something else?” Emmett repeated, head tilting. What else? Had they even covered the first something?

Apparently, at some point during their conversation, Wren had done just that.

This fucking cat. Honestly. How was Emmett supposed to keep up with any of it?

“Are you sad about some other thing, too?” Wren asked, slower this time. He had a confused wrinkle in between his brows.

Was he?

“No?” Emmett said, unsure if it was the right answer. 

Wren squinted, suddenly looking all too adorably pissy and huffy. “Stop smelling sad then!”

Emmett honestly had no idea what he _smelled_ like to the cat’s sensitive nose. But apparently some of his anxiety over- Well. Over all of this, still lingered. But how was he supposed to relax about it? 

Yeah, Wren said he liked how Emmett smelled, _even_ when he was sad. Great. Lovely! Made so much fucking sense.

But… That didn’t mean Wren wanted to _stay._

God dammit. _Don’t think about it,_ Emmet told himself firmly. He would not allow himself to be like this.

“Come here, _then_ ,” Emmett said, copying Wren’s earlier tone, and then cocked one eyebrow up in tentative amusement. Wren was back to doing his already familiar dance of calculated circling. 

It was obvious that he wanted something, he was just unwilling to say so. Cats were just too prideful sometimes, all bravado and sharp snobby edges. Fickle, until you pet them _just so._

Wren’s slitted pupils were tracking Emmett’s purposefully relaxed sprawl on the couch. His gaze was suspicious and haughty, even though the latter really didn’t settle right onto his sweet looking face. He’d probably picked the habit from some older tomcats in the streets somewhere, having seen them posturing.

It was cute. 

Not that Emmett was going to voice that out loud. He’d just get hissed and swatted at, if he tried it before the kitty was softened into putty first. He’d have him in that softer headspace in no time anyway, if the way Wren was stalking closer to him was anything to go by.

When Wren pushed up to straddle Emmett on the couch, he did it with an upright tail and a twitching nose. His ears were pointing at Emmett too, tracking, always. 

“You can pet me if you want,” Wren said, chin lifted.

“Oh, really?” Emmett smirked. His warm weight felt nice on Emmett’s thighs. “I _can?_ But you won’t mind if I don’t?”

“Why would I?” Wren snapped, teeth flashing from under his lips. Emmett could see the way his mind was working, recalculating how to approach this issue he now faced. It was _adorable._

Okay, hold on.

No way in hell had Emmett thought of the word ‘adorable’ this often just a few months ago?

It was unacceptable.

And...

And yet he freely welcomed this exception sitting on his lap.

“Hm, I don’t know,” Emmett teased, trailing his hands from Wren’s hips onto the tops of his thighs. “Just have a feeling that someone might like being pet?”

Wren hissed immediately. 

Predictably. 

When the cat twisted to move off, trilling out an offended little sound, Emmett sneaked his arm behind the cat’s back and wrapped his fingers firmly around the waistband of his jeans. 

Wren’s face was flushed pink, a whole lot more than it had been before. His chest rumbled with a building complaint.

“Oh, hush,” Emmett snorted, pulling the growly thing against himself with the hold he had. Wren’s hands landed on his shoulders, nails digging in right away. 

And… Maybe he was trying to mask the way something else of his was digging into Emmett’s lower abdomen. 

Emmett’s eyes immediately snapped up. Wren refused to meet his gaze. 

The cat's prickling tail pressed snugly against Emmett’s knuckles behind him, trembling with tension. Wren hissed again, slitted pupils widening. 

Emmett already knew that the cat was all talk by now. Or, well... All _hissyfits._

The way he quickly got flustered and snappy was too obvious, the way he gentled into something quieter and soft under Emmett’s hands was even more so. He had figured all this out ever since their little cuddling sessions had become a nightly routine on the couch.

But this was a bit different.

This wasn’t Wren demanding endless pets. This wasn’t him forcing Emmett to rake his fingers through the soft ringlets of his hair, over and over and over again. This was…

Well...

“What do you want, kitten?” Emmett asked quietly, mouth momentarily hesitating against Wren’s less sensitive human ear. “Hm? What are you here for?”

Wren was surprisingly a shy little thing like this. He’d gotten himself right where he had wanted to be, but now his face was hidden against Emmett’s throat. His tail stayed all tense and spouty up along his own back, pressing down increasingly on Emmett’s knuckles.

Wren squirmed, a soft chuffing sound puffing against Emmett’s skin. 

Emmett could feel the heat of his ruddy cheek against his own and the way his nails dug down harder into Emmett’s hoodie covered shoulders. 

“Em...” Wren complained, hips hitching up on Emmett’s thighs and stomach, as if trying to be subtle about it. Emmett would’ve probably felt a lot worse about how flustered Wren was getting, if the cat hadn’t been so damn sweet like this. 

“You have to tell me if you need something from me,” Emmett said, not even trying to hide the gently teasing tone. He turned his head, trying to peek a look at Wren’s face, but the cat just clung onto him, hiding. His ears were folded back, fingertips starting to knead Emmett’s shoulders, instead of digging into them. “Have to be on the same page.”

No response.

Chuckling softly at the embarrassed and stubborn reaction, Emmett pressed his mouth against the hinge of Wren’s delicately rounded jaw. Testing. Watchful. 

Slowly he kissed up that hot cheek. When Wren just pressed closer, he moved back down towards his throat. 

“Emmy...” Wren’s back arched, chest pressing into Emmett’s. He sounded deliciously whiny. “Y-you know. You know what...” 

“I think I know,” Emmett confirmed, kissing down gently where Wren’s throat was still sore looking after that damned collar. Even weeks after removing the thing... Lips soft, Emmett teased the sensitive skin there, while simultaneously he let go of Wren’s jeans. He left his hand to rest at the bottom of his spine. “You should still tell me.”

Wren didn’t really tell him. Not with words. Not yet.

Instead he pulled back, revealing the burning state of his cheeks, the heat reaching into his blown eyes. He looked at Emmett, fingers kneading deeper into his shoulders.

The pause, and the short, searching eye contact, was scorching.

Wren’s canines dug into Emmett’s bottom lip with the kiss that followed. 

It was immediately so good. The heat, the pressure, the way their mouths slotter together. _So_ good. _Wren_ was so good. 

He gasped into Emmett’s mouth, small hands trailing up his neck to knot into his hair. Emmett could feel the way Wren was pressing into the kiss with his whole body. He did his damned best to match that with everything he had.

Fuck… 

So, so good.

“‘I can pet you’, huh?” Emmett grinned, breathless when they pulled apart. Wren tugged on his hair, grumbling at the teasing words. 

“Shut up,” he complained, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. His lips were rosy and already looking thoroughly kissed. Emmett hid his laugh against the corner of Wren’s mouth. 

His chest suddenly felt lighter than it had in weeks.

“Was there some specific sort of petting you had in mind?” Emmett continued, pecking the soft cheek. He tugged Wren just a little bit closer with the hand resting on the bottom of his spine, the move causing a hitch in the cat’s breath. “Any special requests?” 

Wren growled, the sound vibrating against Emmett’s chest. It warmed him right up, even further.

“Just- Touch me, you -!” 

Emmett promptly cut the insult off with his mouth, unable to hold back his smile as he pressed it against Wren’s pouting lips.

The cat squirmed, thighs squeezing Emmett’s in between his. Every single move of his was rutting right up against Emmett’s groin.

Oh, yeah. Wren _absolutely_ knew what he was doing with all that. 

Swallowing another one of Wren’s growling sounds, Emmett allowed himself to be pressed against the back of the couch. The hands in his hair felt good, the tugging sparking shudders awake along his spine. 

Wren pecked his lips once, twice, and then again. He gently nipped with his canines, leaving Emmett’s bottom lip flushed and kiss red. Emmett couldn’t decide whether that mouth felt even better trailing over his throat. 

It was a tough call. 

His Adam's apple bobbed under Wren’s touches, and Emmett had to squeeze his eyes shut when one hand disappeared from his hair. The hand curled around Emmett’s wrist behind Wren’s back instead.

The cat tugged on it, pushing it down, pointedly.

“Yeah?” Emmett asked, pausing to swallow after. There was no doubt going to be a mark on his throat tomorrow. 

“Yeah,” Wren’s breath stuttered out, his consent soft but sure. “Want it.”

_‘Want it.’_

Okay.

Fuck.

Okay.

With quick fingers Emmett untied the double knotted bow that held the back of Wren’s jeans and the waistband together, releasing the cat’s tail from the subtle gap designed for it.

He hooked his chin over Wren’s bony shoulder, looking down and just barely dodging the twitching end of his tail. The thing seemed to have a life of its own, trembling and swishing in short bursts, black fur looking rather spiked. Hugging Wren tighter against himself, Emmett rucked the cat’s white t-shirt up with one hand. With the other, he curled his fingers gently around the fluffed up root of the tail.

There was a harsh, wet hiss against his ear. This time the tone was very different.

Wren’s back bowed further, a feline arch that would’ve been uncomfortable for most everyday people. He was making his little chuffing sounds again, breaths hitching as his bottom pushed into Emmett’s hold.

“‘s it that sensitive there?” Emmett wondered out loud, carefully running his fingers through the silky soft dark fur.

When his fingers rubbed over right where the tail connected to his lower back, Wren mewled, twisting sharply. Even without looking, Emmett could tell that his eyes were squeezed shut, soft ears folded against his head.

“Yes. It’s… Yes,” Wren spoke through his teeth, muscles coiled and vibrating from the stimulation. Emmett hummed, lifting his head to kiss the cat’s cheek. He didn’t stop the massaging touch he had started at the very base of his spine, but he slowed it down, turning the press into something even lighter. 

“Too much?” he asked quietly. Emmett used his other hand to pet up Wren’s back, following the curves of his still slightly too visible ribs. Just a couple more months and he’d be just fine, Emmett would make sure of that. Well. If Wren would just let him, that is. “Want me to stop?”

“No! N-no, don’t stop,” Wren gasped quickly. His shoulders hunched immediately, shying away from the obvious desperation in his voice. “You can… It’s okay. Just- ’s good.”

Emmett smirked a little. He couldn’t help but like how Wren sounded just then. So… Open. Overwhelmed. So wrecked already. “Good? How good?”

He didn’t pause to wait for an answer, but instead returned to the previous intensity of his touch. 

Wren let out a strangled growly sound, muffling it by biting down on Emmett’s hoodie. His hips rutted against Emmett’s, pleasure sparking from the friction against his growing erection.

Emmett swallowed down hard at that, redirecting his attention by gently scratching down Wren’s back with blunt fingernails. His other hand he kept right where it was, forcing out hitching breaths from Wren with each touch. 

Urgent hands came down to tug on the hem of Emmett’s hoodie, fingers sneaking under it to map the heated skin. Wren seemed to really like that skin on skin contact, the way his scratchy purr came alive revealing as much. 

“Take this off,” Wren said, voice just as tense as his back was, fists pulling on the hoodie. His tail was starting to trash a little, short jerking movements from side to side, the tip curling downwards into an arching loop. 

“Why?” Emmett asked, tilting his head to kiss the soft underside of Wren’s jaw. He could feel the hitch in his breath there, when he raked his fingers across the base of Wren’s tail. “So you can bite me instead of the shirt?”

“That’s exactly why,” Wren gritted through his teeth. He tugged the hem of the hoodie up. “Off.”

“Fine. Just...” Emmett pulled his hands off Wren to do it, lifting his brows in amusement when the cat had the nerve to look annoyed by such a move. “Sit up a bit.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Wren scowled, and then scowled harder when he noticed how Emmett bit down on a laugh. 

Wren did sit back though, giving Emmett just enough space to pull the hoodie and the t-shirt under it over his head. The moment he was able to, Wren was rubbing himself all over Emmet’s collarbones, small hands squeezing his biceps. 

Emmett left him to it, quickly noticing the somewhat drunken haze this... _activity_ seemed to elicit on the cat’s features. Wren was purring too, probably the loudest Emmett had heard him go so far.

It was a good sound to hear.

Wren’s pupils were blown when he straightened up, and Emmett couldn’t help but push up to kiss him again.

They both had a blush going on their cheekbones when they pulled apart, lips wet and bitten. 

“Bedroom?” Emmett asked, trying to calm his breathing as he looked up to catch Wren’s eye. He got a hasty nod as a response.

Wren wriggled off his lap. He grabbed Emmett’s hand, dragging him up from the couch and then just as eagerly towards the bedroom.

Not that he had to do a lot of dragging, especially when Emmett got to watch the way Wren’s unlaced jeans tried to slip down his hips.

Emmett had to bring his free hand down to adjust himself in his joggers.

“Hurry up,” Wren complained, having all but thrown himself in the middle of the bed the moment they got in the room. He rolled to his back, and then squirmed out of the shirt he was wearing, abandoning it by the pillows.

Emmett hurried up, not pausing to tease this time. He really didn't have that much resolve left.

Wren wasn’t making it any easier for Emmett either, clearly knowing how damn good he looked, squirming on Emmett’s sheets when the rest of their clothes came off. Somehow he managed to look both innocently sweet and dangerously cunning at the same time.

Wren peered up at him through his dark lashes, thighs shamelessly open and his cock pink and hard where it was drooling on his belly. His hair was a messy dark halo on the white pillows, and Emmett couldn’t stop thinking about how even his cock matched the rest of him. 

Slightly small, stubby, and cute.

Before Emmett could get his newly slicked up fingers anywhere near Wren, he had to pause and squeeze around the base of his own erection to calm himself down. 

Because apparently that visual really did it for him…

Fuck. But how could it not?

Wren was beautiful.

And impatient.

He pulled Emmett in with his legs, wrapping them around his hips, ankles hooking together. Emmett didn’t resist it when Wren directed his hand again. Just like earlier on the couch, he allowed Wren to move it by the wrist, wherever he needed it. 

Emmett leaned down to kiss over Wren’s throat, keeping his fingers right where Wren pushed them in between his legs. The lube had warmed against Emmet’s skin by then, giving just a wet, slippery sensation when he brushed his fingers down over Wren’s hole. 

The thighs around Emmett’s sides tightened. 

He was two knuckles deep in that tight heat, when Wren’s cock kicked against Emmett’s forearm. The feeling of it all made Emmett sigh into Wren’s skin, and he kissed down, over his collarbones and lower to his chest, settling to work on a mark there. 

Wren rolled his hips down, trying to take more and more in, until Emmett sat back up, stopping him with a hand on his waist. 

The bitten bruises looked pretty on his pale skin.

“I want another,” Wren sighed, hands brushing down his own chest, and then massaging over Emmett’s thighs. His eyes were completely blown, canines visible as he whined out in time with the way Emmett worked him open. “Emmett. More.”

“So demanding,” Emmett grinned, breathless. He tried to use his shoulder to get rid of the fringe sticking to his heated temples, then only managing a dumb smile when Wren reached up and fixed his hair for him.

He was still looking at Emmett when he relaxed back against the pillows, splayed open with Emmett in between his legs. 

“I know what I want,” Wren said seriously. 

His pupils had swallowed almost all the colour of his irises, and Emmett stared down at him, unbothered by the tail he felt curling over his thigh. 

Emmett did give him more fingers, but he also gave him a deep, heated kiss. One which lasted until Wren was fucking himself down against the palm of his hand. Fuck, he was so hot. So hot inside. Tight, and slick with the lube. 

He was getting loud too, starting to growl into Emmett’s shoulder when he crooked his fingers up just right.

“Fuck, okay,” Emmett hissed against his cheek, turning to look down where Wren grinded on his fingers. “Okay. How d’you want -”

“I’m on top,” Wren cut in. The declaration lost a bit of its edge to the mewl that followed. His thighs trembled, knees trying to press closer together as Emmett rubbed the pads of his fingers right onto that too-good spot inside of him. “Don’t- Em, don’t stop.”

“Okay,” Emmett breathed out a short laugh, leaning down to kiss the bossy feline once more. He didn’t point out the mixed demands, too turned on to play with that. “I won’t.” Wren licked into his mouth, hands finding their way into Emmett’s hair again. “Not gonna stop.”

They kissed for a while again, Wren gasping into his mouth as Emmett stretched him, fingers ruthlessly circling over his prostate. The massaging pressure was causing precum to pool all over Wren’s belly, his balls already pulling up tight. Emmett had to pause and just look at him, once they broke apart.

Chest heaving, Emmett trailed his free hand down. 

He brushed a featherlight fingertip over the head of Wren’s cock, drawing a soft line all the way down to his smooth sack. Wren squirmed, eyes squeezing shut and head pressing into the pillows. He whined, hands digging down where they had landed just a moment before on Emmett’s thighs.

Wren’s cock twitched under the touch, and he clenched down hard around the fingers inside him. 

Okay. This was…

Emmett needed to get a move on this. It was honestly starting to hurt a little, how turned on he was. 

Hushing Wren’s whimper, Emmett pulled his fingers out carefully. He wrapped an arm around Wren’s back, and with one easy movement he rolled them over, Wren landing on top with a soft squeak.

“Oh,” Wren said, blinking down at Emmett, as if surprised to find himself there. His tail knocked against Emmett’s knees, the fur tickling on his sensitive inner thighs. 

The pause didn’t last long.

Wren’s ears pressed down for a moment when he realised that he could now rut his cock against Emmett’s. 

Which was a bad idea. Very bad, unless he wanted this to end much sooner rather than later. 

Emmett pressed his thumbs into the soft skin next to Wren’s jutting hip bones, wrapping his fingers around his waist. He made him sit still, ignoring the growly exhale he received for it.

“I’m really not gonna last if you keep that up, kitten,” Emmett said honestly. He had to bite down on his bottom lip when Wren just squirmed, chasing the sensation. Emmett gasped, a small hand suddenly around the wet crown of his cock. It was his turn to hold back a growl. “ _Wren!_ ”

“I’m helping,” Wren said, too innocently to come off convincing. When Emmett managed to get his eyes back open, he saw a smug smile on that flushed face. 

“You’re really not,” Emmett gasped, shaking his head jerkily. He frowned hard when an exploring fingertip pressed into his slit.

Little… _Minx._

Emmett’s jaw ached with how hard it clenched, his hips fucking up, jolting Wren forward with the move. He had the audacity to giggle, all breathless and exhilarated as he settled back on Emmett’s thighs.

“You want me that bad?” Wren asked, a trace of that previous innocence still laced into his tone. Emmett swallowed, breathing hard as he stared up at Wren, trying to calm the way his heart was banging against his chest. 

There really was no point in lying. It showed all over Emmett’s body, from the flushed state of his neck and chest, all the way down to his aching cock.

If Wren was able to pick up on his sadness based on scent, there was no way he’d miss how desperate Emmett was for him now.

“ _So bad,_ ” Emmett sighed emphatically, staring up at Wren with that very same want burning in his eyes.

Emmett wasn’t sure what Wren saw right then, but he paused, eyes scanning over Emmett’s face. His ears flicked, and then he nodded. 

“Good,” Wren said. 

He dropped down to kiss Emmett’s mouth, and when he pulled away, he had the condom from the nightstand in his hand.

Just the act of him rolling it on Emmett alone was pure fucking torture.

Obviously it had nothing on the way Wren felt stretched around the head of his cock.

Wren groaned, fingers pressing tight into Emmett’s obligues as he slowly lowered himself. Emmett’s hands hovered by his hips, yearning to touch but not wanting to distract the pace Wren was comfortable with.

“Waited forever for this,” Wren breathed out, hips hitching, and his voice thin and wavering with tension. His mouth was slack, brows furrowed. “You take so damn long to catch on.”

“You barely let me touch you a couple of weeks ago,” Emmett grunted, losing the fight against the temptation, palms finally coming to rest on Wren’s waist. 

He was just so warm inside, so tight and clenching on Emmett’s lenght. _Fuck._ So pretty on top of him, taking him so well. Emmett had to shift his legs against the sheets, thighs opening, then lifting up, only to return back to how they started. It was too good. 

Too fucking good to take staying still. 

“And you didn’t even try,” Wren said, biting on a gasp as he sat down all the way. His eyes squeezed shut, breaths harsh as they rushed past his bitten lips. Emmett rubbed his hands up and down Wren’s tense thighs, trying to soothe any discomfort the best he could. 

God, it was hard to think. 

“Of course not,” Emmett replied, keeping his hips very, very still. Wren was still digging his fingers into Emmett’s stomach, his insides milking him despite how still he was otherwise. Emmett’s voice came out a little strangled, but who could blame him? “You didn’t want it then.”

Eyes tightly closed, a frown pulling his brows together, Wren nodded a little.

He leaned forward, back arching wonderfully, and ran his palms up towards Emmett’s chest. 

When Wren moved back again, that friction around Emmett’s cock pushed the air right out of his lungs. Emmett couldn’t stop his hips from rutting up, just a little, his fingertips pressing white marks on Wren’s hips.

“And that’s the only reason you get to - _ah_ \- touch me now, y- y’know?” Wren gasped out, grinding down on Emmett in maddening circles. His eyes were so glazed when he blinked them open, almost feverish. “Because you waited.”

Emmett was done waiting though.

So done.

He had Wren on his cock, gorgeous and whiny and breathless, _wanting it,_ and he was so done waiting.

Emmett shifted his feet, pushing his knees up until Wren had to lean forward. He moaned, the sound almost a mewl as the new position made him support himself with the hands he had on Emmett’s chest. 

Emmett didn’t let go of Wren’s hips, just held him still as he finally pressed upwards and into him. 

Fuck, the way Wren whined taking his cock was lovely. The pleasured purr beneath those gasping sounds was something even better.

Emmett pet his hands all over every bit of heated skin he could reach, wrapping his arms around Wren’s back when he collapsed against his chest after a while. Emmett hugged him close, kissing his cheek as he kept him pinned down against him, fucking his hips up with pistoning thrusts. 

Wren was getting loud and desperate, uncaring and unashamed of the hitching whines falling from his mouth. He was feeling good and he wanted the world to know about it.

Emmett sneaked an arm down the heated and sweat slick curve of Wren’s back. He didn’t pause, didn’t give a warning, before dragging over the base of Wren’s tail with his fingertips.

The effect was instantaneous. 

Wren gasped, his whole body jerking, clamping down on Emmett. 

“Mh- Ah, _ah!_ ” His voice was completely broken, the overwhelmed noises only cutting off when he suddenly stilled. 

Come spilled all over Emmett’s stomach, and at the same time, Wren wrapped his teeth around Emmett’s shoulder. 

The bite really fucking stung. 

And that was exactly what had Emmett burying himself deep, filling the condom with a silent groan.

Fuck, it felt better than he could’ve even imagined.

Way better.

It took a while, but when Emmett got his brain back online, it was to Wren licking over his sore shoulder with a rough tongue.

Emmett sighed, hands running up Wren’s sides, careful with the touch now that everything was getting overly sensitive. Based on the way Wren was starting to hitch his hips, he was feeling that same sensitivity too.

Tugging Wren up a bit and tighter against his chest, Emmett let his spent cock to pull out. Wren didn’t sound too content with that either, but he was still purring, so Emmett figured it couldn't have been too bad.

“Okay?” Emmett still asked, petting over Wren’s hair, fingers gentle when brushing against his relaxed ears. Emmett managed to peek a little smile before Wren hid it, nodding his head. It prompted a lazy one to rise onto Emmett’s lips in turn. “Good.” 

_Good, good, good._

“Sorry,” Wren rasped a few beats later, his normally scratchy voice barely even there. It was obvious from the way he kept grooming and kissing Emmett’s shoulder, that he meant the no doubt glorious bite mark blooming there. 

It didn’t really hurt anymore, the soft lips against his skin soothing any pain.

“It made me come pretty damn hard,” Emmett chuckled. His own voice wasn’t much better. “So no need to say sorry.”

Wren hummed, clearly pleased. 

He snuggled closer, quickly falling asleep on Emmett’s chest, uncaring of the stickiness and the fact that they’d have to get up and get cleaned.

Emmett blinked towards the ceiling, fighting sleep as he ran his hands distractedly through Wren’s hair.

There were probably worse places to get stuck in than under a napping cat.

  
  
  
  
  


The next morning, instead of slipping out the door when Emmett left for work like he usually would, Wren stayed in his bed.

But, y’know... 

Hissing at Emmett until he brought him a crustless toast and a kiss on the forehead. 

Pretending he wasn’t purring when Emmett stroked his ears while he ate. 

Telling Emmett that he was dumb for not understanding that smelling good, _to Wren,_ meant that Emmett was his.

 _Only_ his.

Why else would he ever let Emmett pet him?

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how well rounded this "storyline" ended up being but hey, I was just vibing and sometimes that’s enough. :) This was all for the sake of getting them words out, and I guess it worked, hooray! 
> 
> Special thank you for the inspiring prompts I managed to use so far :
> 
> Cat-hybrids and instincts / Two people meeting in weird circumstances / Kiss on the shoulder, kiss on the forehead, kiss on the lips / Something cute but sexy (I tried? Did it work ahah!)
> 
> <3
> 
> -
> 
> https://coldercreation.tumblr.com/


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